Many Native American Indians call the moon Grandmother Moon. To me personally, it is a sign of respect, a reverence for nature and the wisdom of nature. It is an expression of living an enchanted life and knowing that everyone and everything is connected, including animals and plants.

Calling the moon Grandmother is a way of showing respect and honoring the oneness with nature. I think of Grandmother Moon as representing the feminine, intuition, wisdom, dreaming and perceiving. When I call the moon Grandmother I treat her like I would an elder or wise Old One. I believe whenever we show reverence to nature we come into deeper harmony and balance with ourselves.

I have enjoyed reading many fairy tales, folktales and myths over the years and have especially loved making up my own stories, influenced by my personal relationship with nature. I have always resonated with Native American Folk Tales because of the kinship between nature and people. I think these kinds of stories help us to remember more of who we are and more of who we can be.

There are two Grandmother Moon stories written by me in Grandmother Moon and Other Mother Stories: Book One. Becky Parker Geist and I are thrilled to announce that this first eBook in the Grandmother Moon Series is now available for preorder at:

She dreamed of droplets of water dripping onto her face. Drip, drip, drip. And she heard tiny giggles. “Stop it. I’m getting all wet!” she yelled and awoke from her dream. She was startled to see a sprite, skin as green as olives, hair like grass, hovering over her. Her dress was wet with dew and when she giggled the dew drops sprinkled all over Shenna’s face. All the commotion woke up Brock. He saw the small green sprite. “A pixie!” he yelled. “I’m not a Pixie! I’m a Sprite! Don’t you know your elementals?!” she frowned at Brock. Brock shook his head with disbelief. He had never seen a real sprite before. “Can you show us where a spring might be? Our village is experiencing a drought and we need water.” The Sprite inspected the two children. “There is no village close to here. You must be very far from home,” she said. Shenna nodded. “I will take you to a spring,” said the Sprite, “but it isn’t what you expect.”

And so it is that the Sprite sprang, tumbled and flew to the Spring. Shenna and Brock both rode the old nag after her. It was the only way that they could keep up. When they got to the spring, Shenna thought it was mistake. She was expecting to see water gushing and flowing out of the spring, but instead there was only a trickle. “But that isn’t enough water to help our village,” said Shenna. “No. It is not,” said the Sprite. “What are we going to do?” asked Brock. They both slumped down on the wet rocks near the spring.

“I’m going to dance,” said the Sprite and she began to twirl under the droplets of water streaming down the rocks. There were times when her body merged with the water and looked translucent. Brock poked his finger right through her. She giggled, “That tickles.” “I don’t understand,” Said Shenna. “Does this mean that the drought is everywhere?” The Sprite stopped twirling and nodded her head, “Yes.” Shenna started to cry. She was sad for her people. She was sad for her parents at home worrying about their crops. She was sad for all the people in the world that didn’t have water. Shenna’s cheeks began to tickle. The Sprite was wiping her tears with her wings. “There’s another way to see things.” “All you see is that your world is without water. Your people do not see that the Undines are stressed.” “I don’t understand,” said Shenna.

“Here take my hand,” offered the Sprite. Shenna and Brock held the Sprite’s hand and they began to spin and shrink until they were dripping into a pool of water. They plopped into the pool, transforming into water spirits. Shenna’s body was blue. Brock poked her. “You’re see through,” he laughed. “So are you,” she poked him back. “What are we?” asked Shenna. “Why you’re Undines of course,” said the Sprite.“But what will mother and father think?” frowned Brock. “You won’t stay this way, just long enough.” And before she could say another word, the Sprite jumped and bounced away. Shenna yelled, “come back,” but the Sprite ignored her. Instead the water formed a large mouth and said,“Stop making so much noise. It makes me ripple.” “Who said that?” demanded Shenna. “I did,” said the Undine who shape shifted itself into a face that Shenna and Brock could see. It was a watery face with a twig for a nose and a very squiggly mouth. “Now why are you here?” The Undine wanted to know. Shenna told the Undine the whole story. Brock ended it with, “yep that’s the way it happened. Can we stay water spirits? This is fun!” The Undine listened, then said, “Hold on they were going for a ride!”

They followed a tricking stream to the river. It was very low. They passed skinny cows, and parched fields, until they fell into deep, dry cracks. “Woa!” yelled Shenna and Brock. “Hold on!” said the Undine. They followed veins of moisture to an underground stream, flowing all the way back to the spring they had come from. “Wow, that was cool! Do that again!” said Brock. The Undine frowned, “Do you know why there is a drought?” “Because the water spirits are stressed,” said Shenna. “Yes, the water is stressed. All the pollution is choking us up. We need your help,” said the Undine. “But how can we help? We are only children.” “You can start appreciating water and sending healing to it.” Then the Undine taught the children a ritual of placing their hands over the water and filling it with their gratitude for all the ways that water gives to them, for food, drink, bathing, cleansing, and all nourishment. The children learned a healing song that they could sing to the water, and promised that they would share it with others.

When they were done the Sprite came back. “Are you ready to go home?” “Yes!” said the children. They thanked the Undines and sang them a song. The Sprite danced on their hands and they turned back into children! Brock poked his sister. She giggled, “Hey stop it!” “Just checking if you are back to normal,” laughed Brock. The children took only enough water in their canteens for the remainder of the trip home.

Shenna and Brock were happy to be home. Their parents rushed to embrace them, “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!” Shenna and Brock told their parents and all the villagers their story. When they were done they showed everyone how to cup their hands over water and fill it with their gratitude. They taught all the villagers, young and old how to sing songs of gratitude. If people forgot, they could make it up. What mattered is what they felt in their hearts. The people learned how to feel gratitude for every droplet of water. They became more conscious not to waste it. Eventually the drought ended. People lessened their pollution. The Undines relaxed, receiving healing, and eventually the water started to flow again. The rains came, and the cycle of life flowed.

From that day on whenever people walked by a river, spring or the ocean, or when it rained, people would sing: “Bless the water in the sky, bless the water in the earth, it’s alive and flowing. Thanks be to water. Thanks be to air. It gives all life. Treat it with great care!”

The people of Atwon village were happy people. They worked and played in cycles. There was a time to work, and a time to play. They planted and harvested in cycles. There was a time to seed and a time to pick the crops. There was a time for birth and a time for death. The people of Atwon knew these cycles intimately and life moved along rhythmically and harmoniously. It wasn’t until one day that the rhythm and the harmony were disrupted.

The people of Atwon were not the only people who inhabited the earth. There were many other villagers spread out through many different lands. And not all of the villagers of these many lands respected the cycles of work and play, of life and death. Not all of the villagers knew the steady rhythm of harmony. The elders of Atwon village warned that there would come a day when their own village would fall into disharmony, when the balance would be disturbed.

And so it is that day had come. Shenna, a young child of 10 was playing with her younger brother, Brock, making mud pies, running with a hoop and stick the way children do. She spotted cracks in the earth . She ran to her mother and father. “The earth is breaking!” she cried. Shenna thought that mother and father would know why. Shenna took them to see the cracks in the earth. Mother and father were very concerned. Mother touched the cracks; a tear ran down her cheek. Father’s heart was heavy, “The earth is very thirsty,” he said. “This is very serious.” (To be continued)